The emerald jewel
by Honeybeehere
Summary: Gawain had no idea that in the dungeon of Marius Honorius he would find the woman who would cause him more joy and heartache than he could have ever thought possible.


Enora raced through the building, the visitor centre of Hadrian's Wall she was so late. Her meeting for the proposal for a new did was stowed in her bag ready ti give to her aging boss and former professor Johnathon Edwards. Her face flushed as she looked at the time on her watch. Enora Penman was due for the site proposal half an hour ago, cursing her misfortune she hitched her leather satchel higher onto her shoulder and sped walked further down the stone corridor, the yellow lights against the growing darkness gave it an ethereal feel, like there was magic present. This far north though she always felt it, like a drumming in her veins, it was why she couldn't bear to part from the village and land in which she lived. Enora had denied her mother many, many times her demands that she return home to London to continue her work there. Little did she realise that the only work there would be tours for bored children and foreign tourists.

'I'm turning out to be like the bloody white rabbit.' She thought as she strode through the door to the conference room, the walls lined in crumbling roman friezes depicting great battles against monsters and men alike.

"Johnathan, I'm so so sorry. Please forgive me; I've got the proposals here with me for you to look at." Enora said rummaging through her bag pulling out paper after paper for the right one, tucking a lock of her long bone straight chocolate hair behind her ear for increased visibility. Not hearing a reply she looked up, the room was empty save for a small note with a box. The box was wooden and looked old, about the size of a shoe box. Curious she reached for it, opening the note it read,

Nora, I'm sorry I couldn't wait. The box is for you, please see it put away properly.

\- Johnathon

Enora sighed, her flushed smile falling from her lips. She reached for the box carefully wondering if gloves would be needed, opening it she found jars, ancient style jars with herbs and pastes inside. Strangely she knew what they all were and how to treat people with them. A strange feeling washed over her like this was hers all along.

'Hmm' she hummed curious it was a similar feeling to that when she walked the wall like the land beyond was hers and there was nothing that anyone could do to take her from it. In one of the jars was a ring, a large round emerald seated in the thick silver band of Celtic latticing. Still holding the ring she stowed the box into her bag a little more forcefully than she would have done an artefact usually and strode once more out of the door.

Enora didn't know what she was doing, her mind was screaming at her to stop, that this was not what she really wanted to do but it was a if her body was working on mussel memory, guiding her to her final true destination, a traveller finally returning home. The sun had finally fallen now bathing her land in a thick darkness through which the stars shone brightly. A swift and chilling breeze nocked her back a little as she exited the centre, not even bothering to lock the door behind her as she would have otherwise done she paced quickly into the outside lands.

It took her about half an hour to reach the spot but to Enora it felt so much longer. However it still felt right somehow, like she was returning home after a long and exhausting journey.

She stood now in the centre of a field beyond the crumbled wall. Directly below her was stone, a stone circle long forgotten and not yet discovered by the Wall's tram of archaeologists. A strange power resonated up around her and Enora looked once again at the ring clutched in her fist. A triskelion glowed form within the jewel. Compulsion drove her do slip it onto her finger not even thinking why it fit quite so well a sense of happiness swelled through her, memories flooded her mind,

 _She was stood in the centre of the stone circle, the spring sky alive and humming with energy yet a sense of melancholia surged within her, she didn't want this life any more. Before her outside of the circle stood an older man, her father. His long grey hair reached his shoulders and blew in the wind, as did his shawl as he stood leaning on a staff._

" _Have care my child. What you are about to do must be done with the greatest care lest you never return to us." His face was solemn and haggard as he looked upon her with sad eyes. Tears slipped freely from her eyes as she gazed at her father once again._

" _I must. I can't bear it here any longer. They're gone my mother and my baby brother." She cried and slipped the ring onto her middle finger of her right hand. It settled there at the base of her long digit and felt regret come over her like a wave. Enora's eyes looked panicked to her father who remained steadfast._

" _Father?" she said scared like the little girl she had been when she first heard thunder not a warrior of twenty two. Merlin shook his head before her,_

" _I will see you again my child, just later. Return to us, be safe." Was all he said before Enora's gaze went dark as pitch._

 _She was young, a little girl really, seven years old, running giggling through a field of wild grasses and flowers chasing her friend, Guinevere. Charming little girls the pair of them they were the treasures of the tribe. The summer sun beat down upon them as they continued their little game. A shout pulled Enora from following Guinevere, pausing she looked round and saw horsemen. It was then that she really ran, catching Guinevere's hand and pulling her back to the tree line._

" _Why do we have to hide? Why should we be afraid in our homeland?" Guinevere hissed as they ran through the trees. Enora smiled slyly,_

" _We aren't they are." She replied. The vision fading._

 _The wall to the south had made her like this, made her do this. Made her the witch that they all said she was. She was loved and feared, still the treasure of the tribe but more revered now due to her skill as a healer and as a warrior, her knives were weapons and tools. At seventeen she was fully grown and beautiful, her long chocolate hair braided intricately on her head in a five strand braid, her skin pale and painted, her movements agile and swift, and her body graceful and curved. Many of the tribe had propositioned her but she had laughed at everyone until they stopped trying. She would not be passed around she was of the Goddess and respected. There had been minor dalliances with members of other tribes, woodsmen who knew nothing of her and were still as blind when she left them._

Enora gasped a great shuddering breath.The stone circle around her began to rise from the earth and spin rapidly around her, buffeting her with a great gale. The power growing and she focused on the feeling of home, the memory of her father, her true father, Merlin.

The spinning stopped suddenly leaving her exhausted in the middle. She swayed lightly, the bitter wind blowing her wrenching a shiver from her body. There was no use in looking around her for it was covered in an impenetrable darkness, not even the stars shone, the moon a non-existent feature.

Enora fell to her knees and wept. She wept for the life she lost and for the relief of coming home. It was a harsher time she knew but it was her time, a time of magic and legend. The king that was promised, Artorius Castus, Arthur and his freedom. Then through the hot salty tears she began to laugh and revel in the intense joy coursing through her veins.

Her eyes opened and she saw the distant glow of a torch as it steadily moved towards her until its wielder was in full view. A young girl of about Enora's age stood watching the weeping woman. It was then that recognition bloomed on both of their faces simultaneously.

"Enora?" the girls whispered questioningly, Enora laughed once again,

"Guinevere." She replied hauling herself to her feet, staggering slightly. Her childhood friend rushed forward dropping the flame to the ground flinging both of her thin arms around Enora's fuller frame. Enora hugged her back with equal fervour. A strangled laugh burst from Guinevere's lips into Enora's shoulder, tears slipping onto her skin.

"I thought that you had left, that you wouldn't come back." Guinevere said through choking sobs.

"I would always come back. I just needed time." Enora said now wishing that she could forget her past life and everything about it, the guilt of her other mother, her job, her house.

"Merlin will be thrilled, come we must take you home." Guinevere said letting go but not releasing her hand while scooping up the light. It was then that Enora noticed her attire, a leather tunic and breaches with thick leather boots and a fur cloak. Her bag had oddly remained the same however and so had the box but inside instead of paper and pens were knives and plants.

"How long have I been gone?" she asked a little later as she was still being led Guinevere back to where more fires cast orange glows into the darkness.

"A year and a half. Much has changed in your absence. Merlin now proclaims that the half Briton Arthur should be our king, he wants him to realise this." Guinevere said in a dull tone of one who had said this too many times. Wisely Enora didn't ask anymore. It was approaching the dead of winter now and she was thankful for her cloak. Guinevere was a little taller than Enora by about two inches but they fell into an easy step like that had done before she had left. "I missed you." Guinevere said quietly.

"I missed you too Guinny" Enora whispered giving her hand a little squeeze. "I'm so sorry that I left in the first place."

It was easy slipping back into life with her tribe, they painted themselves and played and worked and spied on the wall that separated their lands from the Roman hoard. Enora had greeted her father tearfully and a great feast had been held where her people found an excuse to drink themselves silly. It was a few days later that Merlin directed her and Guinevere to spy on the Roman villa to the north east of their settlement. It was that mission that led her and her sister in all but blood to be taken into that pit of despair and pain, only to be tortured there and kept for weeks, but what felt to them like years.

-:-

In the gloom the pain was incredible. It almost pushed her over the edge of insanity, if not for the regular morsels of food and water that she was given she would have died long ago. It felt like she had lain on that cold stone floor forever, like she would die there in the dungeon of Marius Honorius.

Distantly she heard a banging. It raged within her head and she focused on the pain using it to fuel her to stay alive. A shaft of light fell on the floor in front of her cell a distance away and the sound of people clambering down the steep stone steps reached her ears as hope began to bloom within her. She crawled as best she could towards the bars of her sealed enclave away from the defecating body of another unfortunate waif behind her.

"et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio" sang a monk his voice filling the squalid pit churning Enora's insides more than usual. The sound of Latin prayer now ahd become a mental torcher for her. "Who are these defilers of the Lord's temple?" A monk said indignantly she could not see what was happening outside of her cage due to the heavy iron bars.

"Out of the way." Came a deep voice, her rescuer? "The work of your God? Is this how he answers your prayers?" He asked heatedly of another.

"See if there's any still alive!" A replying voice sounded tersely accompanied by the sound of steel breaking chain. They were going to free everyone, well everyone still alive.

"How dare you set foot in this holy space." Said the monk from before, a bringer of her misery. The distinct sound of a sword through flesh resonated to her and Enora cheered inside as the body hit the floor.

"There was a man of God!" said another monk. She would know their voices until she died from the pain she had endured by their hands.

"NOT MY GOD!" the man roared. She silently thanked whoever was listening for that outcry, a pagan she could understand, these new men of Christianity held no meaning to her.

"This one's dead." Sounded a deep voice from a way down from her. They were getting closer.

"By the smell they are all dead. And you even move, you will join him." Said a deep voice, footsteps followed and then she could see them. A large pair of boots in front of her cell. Summoning what strength she could she pushed her hand through the iron bars and patted a heel closest to her where she lay.

Gawain jumped when he felt the contact to his shoe. Whirling round he shone his torch on the darkened cell that stank of decay, the light cast onto a girl, young but strong looking even after the torcher that she had endured. He swung his axe onto the chain and the door fell forward with a great clatter.

"You're safe now. We'll not harm you." Gawain said in as soft a voice as he could. Enora almost sobbed in relief as he reached for her pulling her into his strong arms. They did not linger long in that pit of despair the knights carrying the two women and boy that they had found out into the freezing sunlight. Drumming in the air as they laid them on the ground.

"WATER!" A dark haired man called, he was carrying Enora's sister, "Get me some water!"

Gawain took a skin off of his friend atop a horse and slowly gave it to Enora. The cool silky liquid was like heaven to her lips, but she could barely swallow anything before coughs racked her body. Physically she was fine. It was Guinevere who had taken most of the beatings, Enora had used magic to heal herself after each session but separated from her sister she could do little for her. Gawain held her as she shivered into his warm body. He wrapped her in his green woollen cloak rubbing her arm gently to try to warm her up but in the frigid weather it was difficult to impossible.

"STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" shouted the vile man who had imprisoned her. The dark haired man rose to stand before her sister.

"WHAT IS THIS MADNESS!" he roared back a look of defiance in his eyes. The fat roman grew desperate,

"They're all pagans here!" he shouted gesturing to his surfs behind him. Gawain's friend who had given him the water leant down to the roman,

"So are we." He said clearly daring another response from the overstuffed roman man.

A monk from the pit came forward to Arthur trying to reason with him. Enora shivered more violently than before and Gawain gripped her tighter to him. A compulsion drove him to stroke her hair in an effort to sooth her it distracted her from what the monk was saying but it seemed to agitate the man who held her.

"You mean they refused to your surfs!" shouted her sister's protector. The rotund man tried to win Arthur round saying,

"You are a roman you understand. And you are a Christian! YOU! You kept them alive." The sound of a slap stung the frozen air and Gawain stiffened. Enora could see very little as her eyes adjusted to the light. Around her she was drawing in the power of the landscape. The mountains and earth lending her strength so that she may better recover from the past treatment of her. They wanted to help her; she was one of them, part of the human realm and of the earthen body.

"I was willing to die with them. Yes, to lead them to their rightful place Tis Gods wish that these sinners be sacrificed only then can their souls be saved." The monk said righteously, the sound of his voice made Enora recoil into Gawain who still held her partially off the ground.

The man over her sister only scorned the romans. Her father was right about him. He was the leader and protector that they needed to keep them together to rule them.

"Then I shall grant his wish. Wall them back up." He said and Enora strained to watch the following scene unfurl.

"Arthur." Said a man on horseback, he had dark hair braided partially and mainly in his face but his tattoos were visible on his cheeks.

"I SAID WALL THEM UP!" he strode back to Enora's sister as the villagers pushed the vile monk back into the pit of death and walled him back up with him protesting the entire way.

Enora looked up into the eyes of her saviour, her gaze having long since adjusted to the light level she could see that they were the clearest blue that she had ever seen.

"What is your name?" he asked softly moving a lock of matted hair from her face. Her emerald eyes looked up at him taking him fully in from his high slanted cheekbones to his long blond hair and armour.

"Enora." She croaked after so mong of not using her voice it cracked and strained with use. Gawain looked her over and discerning no visible damage he looked back at her almond shaped emerald eyes.

"I'm Gawain. You are safe. Even if you are Woad nothing will harm you." Enora relaxed. She lay in the arms of her people's old enemy but felt a safe contentment. Exhaustion became her and her eyes blinked a heavy blink. "Rest, I'll see you cared for." He said and she fell into a soft warm blackness with welcome arms.


End file.
